


Ambitious Fantasy

by derryderrydown



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Teen Titans
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vic/Gar sex pollen wankfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambitious Fantasy

Gar has a small supply of sex pollen, leftovers from a tussle with Poison Ivy. He keeps it in an airtight container in the bottom of his closet. Experimentation has taught him exactly how much he needs to inhale to make his regular dates with his right hand less pathetic.

Make them _feel_ less pathetic. At the time. Because, thinking about it, he's a superhero and a (former) TV star, and a damn fine looking one, and he's having to take drugs designed by a psychopath to make himself feel better about not being able to get a date.

It's a wonder he hasn't turned to anything stronger, really.

But he snorts just enough of the pollen to make the world brighter and starts to strip. He knows the pollen takes a few minutes to get to work properly, that this initial jolt is nothing. By the time he's out of his suit, his skin's buzzing and prickling, almost like when he has a fever, but it feels _good_. Another minute and it'll change again, so that every touch is a caress.

He waits for the tell-tale shift in his vision, as though somebody has turned up the contrast on the world, because that's his cue to settle into his bed. The cotton sheets feel like silk now. Feel like silken _hands_, all over his his back and his ass and the soles of his feet.

He lets out a little sigh, almost a moan, and closes his eyes. Waits.

_Yes._

That's it.

He runs his hand over his chest and can feel the weight of metal behind his own touch.

Because this isn't the old, unsubtle pollen that just made the victim want to fuck whoever was closest. This pollen, taken in sufficient quantities, makes the victim believe that every perverted little fantasy they've ever had is coming true.

Gar doesn't take it in sufficient quantities. He just takes enough to spice up his perverted little fantasy about his best friend. The same perverted little fantasy he's been having for fucking years now.

But this isn't the time to think about how pathetic he is because the pollen's going to wear off soon, and he doesn't have enough left to waste it.

So he tells himself it's Vic's hand rubbing wide circles on his chest and, if he concentrates, he can almost feel Vic's mouth on his nipple; feel the cold metal of Vic's chin, slowly absorbing the heat from Gar's body.

He pushes his head back into his pillow and bites his lip to muffle the whimpers he can't stop himself making. And if this was really Vic, he'd stay like this for hours, make the whole thing last for _days_, with Vic touching him and him touching Vic and finding out just what _this_ version of Vic's body was capable of.

But it's just the pollen and he's got - he manages to open one eye to look at the clock next to his bed - three minutes before it wears off and he's back to being a lonely teenager in bed on his own.

So he slides his hand down his chest, over his belly, and grasps his erection, and it's still Vic doing it. Or perhaps it's Gar sliding his hands over Vic, over the solid mass of muscle and metal, and perhaps Gar's weedy little hiccups of need are actually Vic's moans, so deep that Gar can feel them through his whole _body_.

He moves his hand slowly, and it's him stroking Vic and it's Vic stroking him, both at the same time. He can't keep from bucking up, into Vic's fist. Vic doesn't, though. Vic _eases_, slow, powerful thrusts, and Gar bites his fist, pumps harder.

"Gar," Vic says, and his voice is affectionate, friendly, _loving_, and Gar comes.

He lies breathless and, after a moment, there's a knock on his door. "_Gar_," Vic says again and he sounds impatient.

"Hang on," Gar manages to say, and he's fast in cleaning himself up, in getting dressed. It's less than a minute until he unkeys the lock on his door. "What?"

"I'm going on a pizza run. Want to come?"

Gar grins. "Sure," he says.

Because at least he's actually _with_ Vic this way.


End file.
